He had fallen asleep even before the letter was completed.  There was a message for the boy and a wish: 

“May he meet a woman like you, my dear, when his time comes, and love her as I love you,” and again came the phrase, “I am very tired.”  It spoke of the boy’s school, and continued:  “Whether he will come out here it is too early to think about.  But the road will not be finished—­and I wonder.  If he wants to, let him!  We Linforths belong to the road,” and for the third time the phrase recurred, “I am very tired,” and upon the phrase the letter broke off.

Dewes could imagine Linforth falling forward with his head upon his hands, his eyes heavy with sleep, while from without the tent the patient Chiltis watched until he slept.

“How did it happen?” he asked.

“They cast a noose over his head,” replied the Diwan, “dragged him from the tent and stabbed him.”

Dewes nodded and turned to Luffe.

“These letters and things must go home to his wife.  It’s hard on her, with a boy only a few months old.”

“A boy?” said Luffe, rousing himself from his thoughts.  “Oh! there’s a boy?  I had not noticed that.  I wonder how far the road will have gone when he comes out.”  There was no doubt in Luffe’s mind, at all events, as to the boy’s destiny.  He turned to the Diwan.

“Tell Wafadar Nazim that I will open the gates of this fort and march down to British territory after he has made submission,” he said.

The Diwan smiled in a melancholy way.  He had done his best, but the British were, of course, all mad.  He bowed himself out of the room and stalked through the alleys to the gates.

“Wafadar Nazim must be very sure of victory,” said Luffe.  “He would hardly have given us that unfinished letter had he a fear we should escape him in the end.”

“He could not read what was written,” said Dewes.

“But he could fear what was written,” replied Luffe.

As he walked across the courtyard he heard the crack of a rifle.  The sound came from across the river.  The truce was over, the siege was already renewed.

CHAPTER IV

LUFFE LOOKS FORWARD

It was the mine underneath the North Tower which brought the career of Luffe to an end.  The garrison, indeed, had lived in fear of this peril ever since the siege began.  But inasmuch as no attempt to mine had been made during the first month, the fear had grown dim.  It was revived during the fifth week.  The officers were at mess at nine o’clock in the evening, when a havildar of Sikhs burst into the courtyard with the news that the sound of a pick could be heard from the chamber of the tower.

“At last!” cried Dewes, springing to his feet.  The six men hurried to the tower.  A long loophole had been fashioned in the thick wall on a downward slant, so that a marksman might command anyone who crept forward to fire the fort.  Against this loophole Luffe leaned his ear.